


between the stars in your eyes is our safe little corner of forever

by forecast (wasatch_97)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Depression, Enemies to Lovers, Implied Bullying, Implied Sexual Content, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, Lee Minho | Lee Know-centric, M/M, Sad Han Jisung | Han, Strangers to Lovers, binsung cousins fic, drugs are mentioned, finallyy, fwb minchan situation, lino is very emotionally constipated i am so sorry, minbin besties, past break in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29523417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasatch_97/pseuds/forecast
Summary: He’s about to look away, or he’s telling himself he’s about to look away, when Jisung’s gaze darts over to him. Minho feels himself begin to blush from having been caught staring this time around, but the embarrassment is softened when Jisung smiles quietly—not a smirk or anything that screams he’ll be teasing Minho later on. Just a placid smile that makes Minho’s nonsensical heart miss a beat.“Hyung.” Minho glances back to Felix who has an eyebrow raised. “You’re staring at Jisung.”“I’m not,” Minho laughs, “I looked over to see who was at the door, that’s all.”Felix says nothing more but Minho can read the amusement in his expression so he pulls himself up off of the couch and goes in search of something to drink in the kitchen, hoping to calm down from Felix’s obnoxious insight.or, changbin’s cousin jisung comes to town and minho maybe learns a thing or two about love.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Lee Minho | Lee Know & Seo Changbin
Comments: 29
Kudos: 146





	between the stars in your eyes is our safe little corner of forever

**Author's Note:**

> me, to lena: maybe don’t post a new fic until after ficathon so it doesn’t get lost  
> me: absolutely does not take my own advice
> 
> hihihi~!
> 
> i'm back to post one of my favorite pieces :) welcome binsung cousins into the world :> i have ranted a lot abt this fic on twitter, especially in the past few days so sorry if you’ve had to listen to that :’) also in this jisung texts exactly like me lmao sry if you’ve ever dmed with me and experienced that horror
> 
> thank you to [cal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusblush) who saved me from many a mental breakdown while this was in the beginning stages :D and [lena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daiseok) who has been the best support recently! (go check out both of their accounts they’re amazing writers)
> 
>  **please read:** there is a moment in the story when a break in that happened in the past is mentioned. it is three paragraphs long and is marked with [☆] on either end so if it makes you uncomfy you can skip! it isn’t ever brought up outside of those three paragraphs so don’t worry :D 
> 
> anyways, i hope you like the piece <3 !
> 
>  **cw:** drinking, depression, the briefest mention of drugs ever, implied sexual content, mentioned past break-in, implied bullying, blood

Minho knows what he’s going to say; he’s planned it all out in his head while marching to Changbin’s apartment building from his own. It doesn’t matter that the majority of the little speech is an array of colorful language, because it’s _Changbin,_ and Changbin is nothing if not almost as resistant as Minho is to vulgarity. 

Even after a walk that is several blocks long, Minho finds that the chill of the early-winter air hasn’t taken the edge off of his attitude towards his best friend. Through the ride in the elevator up to Changbin’s floor, Minho rubs his hands together, wishing he had brought gloves of some sort, though his main focus still is to give Changbin a proper piece of his mind. When the elevator lets out he strides up to Changbin’s apartment door and brings his cold fist down on the wood three times, hoping he’ll scare the shit out of his friend before he starts in on him himself. 

The door opens just a handful of seconds later and Minho launches into his planned confrontation, knowing he’s about to knock Changbin’s socks clean off. 

_“Changbin, you fucker—”_

He doesn’t get all that far before he realizes.

Changbin is not the one standing in front of him with his hand on the doorknob, looking completely taken aback.

There’s boy blinking up at Minho, a boy who is so clearly not Changbin. For one he’s ridiculously _pretty,_ with full cheeks and quite arguably the largest almond-shaped eyes Minho has ever seen. Confusion is written across his features and his eyebrows draw together, before he takes Minho further by surprise by raising an eyebrow, instantly appearing exasperated. It’s a complete change of expression and Minho feels positively lost at what has happened in the past seconds. 

“You have something important to say, I gather?” It takes a moment for Minho to realize the boy has addressed him, but it doesn’t take him long at all to register that he likes the boy’s voice. It’s smooth and rather deep, deeper than Minho’s own. 

“Right,” Minho says oh so intelligently when he’s come back to earth. It’s mortifying, being looked over by this boy, who is obviously younger than him but has the upper hand because Minho is blushing like a schoolboy who has just spotted his crush. “You’re Jisung, right? Changbin told me his cousin was coming to stay with him but I didn’t know you had arrived.”

The boy— _Jisung_ —narrows his eyes as his expression turns calculating, like Minho is something he’s been dying to puzzle out. “Who are you?”

“I’m Minho, I’m a friend of Bin’s,” Minho answers, maybe a bit too quickly. He sets about scratching the back of his neck in hopes of doing something other than standing still like a fool, but the boy’s expression only grows increasingly more unimpressed. “I came to yell at him because I lent him one of my flash drives and I went to use it today and he had—”

“I really don’t care,” Jisung finishes for him, while moving to lean against the door frame. “Hyung will be back in a few hours, come see him then.”

Minho grimaces at Jisung’s easy dismissal, “I’m sorry I rambled.”

Jisung hums, unbothered, and Minho takes his turn to look over the boy opposite him. Jisung is wearing a white knit sweater and faded jeans, an outfit he figures could be called a staple in winter fashion. There are a few rings on his fingers that clink against the phone he has clutched in his hand. Jisung’s hair is dyed a gradient of grey, soft and muted, with strands falling in waves over his forehead. His hair obviously hasn’t been dyed in a while, but the look suits him. 

“Are you finished?” 

Minho coughs, caught off guard once again. “I,” _he needs to get out of here._ “Sorry.”

Jisung plays with the fine silver chain earring that is dangling from his left lobe. “Do you want anything else or can I go eat my hot pockets?” he asks, but the boredom that edges his tone implies that he’s far from wanting to give Minho any attention. 

“No, go ahead, sorry, I’ll come back later when Changbin’s home,” Minho says, flinching when Jisung’s gaze meets his dead on and he’s suddenly trapped, as if Jisung has to be the one to break the contact. He does, not moments later, by looking past Minho into the hallway. 

Jisung purses his lips, which Minho very unhelpfully notes are a pretty pale blush color, matching the tint of his cheeks. He gives Minho one last once over, and Minho winces at being caught in a ratty sweatshirt and worn joggers. Jisung pays it no mind, though, to which Minho is thankful. “Well then, come back another time when I’m not forced to be Changbin’s doorman.”

Minho rolls his eyes, deciding enough is enough. “Why do you dislike me? You don’t even know me.”

Jisung tilts his head ever so slightly, causing his earring to hit his jaw. “I don’t have a reason to like you.”

“You won’t give me the benefit of the doubt?”

Jisung makes a noise in his throat that is something just short of a scoff. “Liking people is exhausting. I would much rather do other things than show interest and respect to someone who I don’t know and truly don’t want to know.”

[Minnie]  
your cousin is whack

[Binnie]  
you met jisung?

[Minnie]  
yeah you weren’t home when i was looking for you  
btw i’m coming over again later bc i have to yell at you  
anyways  
i’m 99% sure he hates me

[Binnie]  
what did he say?  
and why do you need to yell at me?

[Minnie]  
i’ll tell you later  
and he just said passive aggressive stuff but like bordering on aggressive  
he said at the end he doesn’t like me bc he doesn’t have a reason to like me

[Binnie]  
lol well that’s jisung for you

[Minnie]  
too bad he’s a dick

[Binnie]  
he’s not, believe me

[Minnie]  
i’ll believe it when I see it  
also are u the only one in your family that didn’t grow up pretty? 

[Binnie]  
i’ll slap you

[Minnie]  
if u can reach lol

[Binnie]  
i’m telling jisung you think he’s pretty

[Minnie]  
NO  
no please i’m sorry don’t say anything

[Binnie]  
you’re not even denying it

[Minnie]  
please :(

[Binnie]  
buy my silence  
bring me oreos tonight and i won’t say anything

[Minnie]  
as you wish, my liege 

“Hey, hyung, where’d you put my duffle—oh.”

Minho starts at the voice, suddenly on the edge of the couch cushion. When he gathers himself enough to look up he’s instantly drawn to the source of the words, like he had suspected he would be. Jisung is standing in the doorway of Changbin’s guest room, his fingers curled around the handle while his eyes narrow in obvious annoyance at the discovery of Minho’s presence. “You weren’t lying about coming over later.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Minho quips back, having realized that the only way to interact with Jisung is through combat. He sees Changbin raise an eyebrow in the corner of his vision but he pays his friend no mind. “I don’t lie.” 

Jisung presses the string of his hoodie against his lips, the baby blue hood pulled low to cover his hair and forehead. “Everyone lies.” 

Minho frowns at the hostility that is dripping from the two words. There’s almost an edge of something akin to sadness as well, but Minho figures he’s thinking too hard about two words. “I’ll be leaving soon anyways, don’t get all worried because of me.” 

“Since you’re here now,” Changbin cuts in, completely aware of Minho and Jisung’s apparent row but choosing to push it aside. “Ji, this is Lee Minho. He and I rented an apartment together during my last two years of uni. He’s a year older than me and teaches dance.”

“I feel like I’m reading a tinder bio,” Jisung says, while examining his nails. “Swipe left.”

Minho grits his teeth, annoyed, while Changbin ignores his cousin’s chosen response. “Min, this is Han Jisung. He’s nineteen, around four years younger than you. His passion is music. Maybe he’ll be a bit nicer,” Changbin punctuates the word with a raised eyebrow and a frosty glare directed towards Jisung, “if you mention music.”

“Or we could just skip all unnecessary interaction,” Jisung says, and his voice has gone monotone. Though he comes off as bitter, when his gaze moves from Changbin to the coffee table in front of them something changes in his expression, as if he has suddenly become amused. 

“Oh, you have oreos?” Jisung walks over to the coffee table, not once glancing towards Minho, and bends to read the packaging. When satisfied Jisung grabs one of the cookies, all the while brushing off Changbin’s swatting hands. “Great choice. Too bad hyung doesn’t deserve them.” He takes a bite and hums in approval. “Don’t worry,” he says, and any tension that had been in his voice is gone. “You’re not the first guy who has thought I’m pretty.” Finishing off the cookie he grabs another with nimble fingers and winks at Minho, disappearing into what he’s claimed as his room not seconds later. 

“What the hell,” Minho whispers, furious, his cheeks turning a darker crimson with every second. “Bin!” 

“He went onto my phone to play something from my Spotify account and our text thread was open,” Changbin explains, not looking the slightest bit guilty. “He found it hilarious.” 

“Fuck, Bin,” Minho raking his hands through his hair. His stomach has dropped what feels like fifty stories, and so much panic is swimming within him that he feels light headed. “I feel like I just cheated.” 

Changbin runs a hand along Minho’s back as comfort, but there’s a sigh of exhaustion in his words. “Hyung, you’ve got to face it sooner or later, Chan-hyung values you as a friend and sees your relationship as friends with benefits. It’s not healthy for you to keep doing this, hyung. You’re hurting yourself.”

“Mind your own business,” Minho hisses, but Changbin sees right through him.

“You know I’m not wrong, Min. You need to let him go.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Minho mumbles. “You were already on thin ice, leaving me to find _pornography_ on that fucking drive. I hate you.”

“I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” Changbin argues, grinning, because he knows he’s right. 

Minho knows he’s right too.

xxx

[Chan-hyung]  
Hey Min  
All the guys have collected at my place, apparently I’m buying takeout for dinner  
Come over if you want :)

Minho should have taken time to consider what Chan meant by _all the guys_ , because when he steps inside Chan’s apartment he’s met with seven figures lounging around the living room. As if bound by some _shitty_ invisible force, Minho finds Jisung’s eyes at the same time the younger finds his. 

“You’re here?”

Jisung voices the words before Minho has a chance to, so he chooses to stare down the boy with a glare instead. Jisung is sitting cross legged on the ground with a container of _japchae_ open in front of him, chopsticks wrapped in noodles paused half way to his mouth, already looking visibly annoyed. Minho crosses his arms with a sneer, “Is that an issue?”

“Oh my god, get over yourselves,” Changbin says with a groan from the couch, watching the interaction with heavy eyes.

Jisung snorts and Minho rolls his eyes, equally put out, but they end their bickering. Minho walks the few feet to where Chan is spread out in the armchair and collapses into his lap, all the while grinning happily. “Hi.”

Chan smiles, patting his cheek. “Hey.”

Minho sighs at the affection and rests his head on Chan’s shoulder, a position he’s able to peer at the others from, all of whom are either immersed in eating or chatting. When his gaze falls to Jisung he’s surprised when their eyes meet; Jisung had already been looking at him. Jisung all together seems less lively, dull, then he had before and Minho feels strangely embarrassed when he notices Jisung blatantly looking at his arms that are wrapped around Chan’s neck and the older’s hand resting on his waist. 

When caught staring, Jisung purses his lips and averts his eyes, shoving his half-empty food container towards Changbin. He abruptly stands up and flees to the kitchen, and Minho smirks at his obvious display of embarrassment. 

Wanting to ridicule the boy further, Minho moves from Chan’s lap and follows Jisung into the kitchen, murmuring something about wanting a drink. 

He finds Jisung leaning against the counter, a can of nondescript beer from Chan’s fridge in his hand. When Minho enters the room Jisung barely looks up. 

“So, what is it? You drink a lot? When you get stressed?” Minho feels haughty.

Jisung looks up and fixes Minho with a stare, his beer raised half way to his lips. He doesn’t say anything, surprisingly, and Minho is a bit taken aback. “Cat got your tongue?”

Jisung’s eyes flick from Minho’s face to the can in his hand. Letting out a slow breath he lowers the drink, placing it on the counter. “You should learn to stay out of matters that don’t concern you, Minho,” he says, and his voice is frigid. 

Minho’s body feels almost numb as Jisung fixes him with a look full of contempt, and a weird sense of guilt hits him as Jisung walks past him to the balcony door and pushes it open. He ignores Changbin’s call as he steps out into the cold, without even a jacket.

As the glass shuts behind the boy, Minho watches Jisung lean against the railing, looking out at the city, his breath crystalizing in the cold air. Minho has half a mind to bring him a coat but his thoughts are still reeling so he takes one final look at Jisung before walking across the living room to grab his bag and slip from the apartment. 

When he steps out onto the street from the lobby, he’s hit with air colder than Jisung’s glare. 

A part of him hopes someone will bring Jisung a coat.

xxx

The next day finds Minho standing in Changbin’s living room, shifting foot to foot as a strange feeling of anxiety hits him.

“I need to flip the laundry,” Changbin mutters and practically runs from the room; he knows Minho’s plead to _come over and visit_ has something to do with Jisung, but won’t take any of Minho’s excuses for him to stick close. 

With a sigh, knowing his fate is sealed, Minho crosses to the guest room—Jisung’s room—and knocks on the door. _It isn’t at all terrifying._

There’s some shuffling from within the room and then the door opens just enough for Jisung’s face and torso to be visible. He looks startled, understandably, at Minho’s appearance and is opening his mouth to question him, but Minho cuts him off, knowing that if Jisung starts speaking he’ll never get this across. _Now or never._

“Jisung, about the other day, that was shitty of me to say. I’m sorry.”

Jisung’s eyebrows raise and he looks genuinely surprised at Minho’s sudden apology, which does nothing to ease Minho’s guilt. “It was.” The space between them goes silent for what feels like far too long and Minho wants to cower and hide, but what’s left of his pride makes him stay still and hear Jisung out. “Thanks for your apology, though.”

“I should get going,” Minho says, staring the floor in an attempt to look anywhere but at Jisung. 

“Wait,” Jisung calls as Minho begins to turn away, and there’s some element of gentleness to his voice that draws Minho’s gaze back to his. “Can we...come up with some sort of truce?” Minho blinks in surprise at the proposition and Jisung quickly rambles off the rest of his thought. “We’ve both been pretty awful to each other and I know that it’s affecting your friends, and especially Bin. I’m going to be living here for a little while, at least,” Jisung rubs his neck, visibly uncomfortable at the words. “And it would suck for us to argue whenever we’re in a room together. I’m not asking for you to befriend me or anything. Just a truce, hate me behind closed doors instead.” 

Jisung’s grin is a little unsure but it’s genuine, and Minho finds himself nodding in agreement to the idea before he realizes he is. 

Jisung’s resulting smile is ridiculously large and heart-shaped, but Minho doesn’t bother to comment on it. It’s because of the newly enacted truce, he tells himself. Not because the thoughts that he’d conjured up when they had first met have come back. 

_Jisung_ certainly isn’t pretty. 

Maybe his smile kind of is, but no one ever needs to know Minho’s opinion on something as trivial as his best friend’s cousin’s smile.

xxx

[Binnie]  
hey  
jisung went out walking over in the direction of your place

[Minnie]  
you want me to talk to your cousin

[Binnie]  
yeah  
please min i’m actually worried about him and i can’t get out of work

[Minnie]  
fine, i’ll go but you owe me

[Binnie]  
thank you  
he should be by the park

The park Changbin mentioned is spitting distance from Minho’s apartment so it’s a quick walk, after he’s bundled himself up in his warmest fleece jacket which he pairs with a dark blue beanie and a brown plaid scarf. He’s not trying hard to look presentable at all, in the end this is Jisung he’s going out looking for.

The air is chilly outside, crisp like the weather has considered snow but withheld, instead letting the city freeze over. Minho hurries down the blocks towards the park, all the while wondering why Changbin is so worried about Jisung. Worried enough to send _Minho_ after him.

He doesn’t have that long to try to logic out Changbin’s reasoning because as he’s about to cross the last road between him and the park, he spots a figure in an ashy-grey peacoat sitting on a bench, looking absolutely tiny. 

Minho raises an eyebrow. 

Sure enough, as he walks closer he sees that it is Jisung. The boy is sitting with his head bowed, his chin buried in a chunky white sweater with a matching hat hiding his hair, one that has a pompom attached to the knit. Minho snickers to himself at the pompom, ignoring that it does suit Jisung fairly well. Jisung’s hands are hidden in his coat pockets and Minho knows he must be cold; he doesn’t know exactly how long the boy has been out here, he wasn’t privy to that knowledge, but Jisung’s face is flushed red from the chill which gives him some indication. Pulling out his phone he sends Changbin a quick text about his discovery before stepping forward. 

“Jisung?” 

Jisung startles at his voice, and his head snaps up so quickly that Minho almost expects his neck to give out. “Minho?” Obviously uncomfortable, Jisung stands up to be at almost the same level as Minho. “What are you doing here?” 

“Bin was worried about you,” Minho tells him, shrugging. “He’s stuck at work so he sent me to find you.” 

“I’m sorry I worried him, I shut my phone off after texting him where I was at,” Jisung mumbles out, looking truly guilty. Minho is surprised; usually Jisung is quick to act annoyed and argue. _Or maybe that’s just with him._ “I’m sorry he bothered you, too.” 

“Okay, well, now that we know you’re good I should probably go—”

“Wait, Minho,” Jisung halts Minho and he turns back, confused. “Could you stay around for a bit?” Jisung’s guilt appears to be back and he’s not focusing on Minho’s face, his words having made him shy. “I won’t be mean, promise.” 

“I mean, sure,” Minho takes himself by surprise once again as he agrees to an idea forged by Jisung. After the words escape his lips he immediately wants to retract them but Jisung is staring up at him with something like thanks in his eyes and it makes Minho’s thoughts falter. “Why, though?” 

Jisung looks down, embarrassed, and shrugs. “Don’t know. Just felt right to ask, I guess. Plus what would you be doing anyways, messing around with your boyfie?” 

“That’s mean,” Minho huffs, and nearly lets out a laugh when Jisung’s expression turns apologetic in an instant and his hand flies up to touch the back of his neck, the sleeves of his white sweater slipping over his hands from under the cuffs of his coat. Minho finds it almost adorable; Jisung’s close-to sweater paws, not the boy. “But no, I’d probably be watching a movie and hanging with my cats.” 

“You have cats?” Jisung asks, and his eyes are glittering with sudden interest. 

Minho nods, and finds himself grinning. “Three. Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. They’re all precious but little devils too.” 

“Oh my god, maybe I can meet them?” Jisung asks, his entire face alight with excitement. Minho chooses to nod, not even recognizing the boy he’s grown to dislike. 

They end up walking around the park, talking about this and that for what feels like hours but at the same time just seconds. Minho learns more about Jisung’s music taste while he in turn tells Jisung about his job as a dance teacher. As the minutes pass Minho finds himself beginning to truly enjoy the boy’s company; Jisung is surprisingly very interesting and just from the way he talks and the things he references it’s easy to recognize that he’s intelligent. 

Somehow they’ve walked until dusk, and Minho looks up in shock when the streetlamps around them begin to light up. 

“We’ve been out here a while.” Jisung comments the obvious, and Minho blinks owlishly back at him, suddenly slightly disoriented. He’s truly enjoyed this time with Jisung, getting to know the boy just a little. “Do you actually like me, Minho-ssi? You’ve put up with me for a long time today, and I doubt you could have done that if you truly dislike me.” 

“You’re an asshole, you know that, right?” Minho sneers, but there’s no strong bite to his words.

Jisung laughs, and as he does so his eyes curve into half-moons. “Am I now?”

Minho nods in all seriousness, and taps his pointer finger against his bottom lip. “I really hate you.” 

_He doesn’t._

Jisung’s hand flies up to cover his mouth as he giggles uncontrollably at Minho’s statement. “No you don’t,” he replies, breathless. 

Minho stops walking, Jisung following suit, and looks at him in confusion. Minho ignores the question in his eyes and stares down at the younger boy who looks so effortlessly angelic under the ugly yellowing hue of the streetlamps. The pompom on his hat is tipping sideways and his bangs are sticking out unevenly from under the white fabric, while the sleeves of his sweater are still hanging out from under the cuffs of his too-short coat, almost completely hiding his fingers that grip his phone. Jisung’s cheeks and nose are flushed red from the descending night’s cold, and his eyes are ever large and glittering as he stares up at Minho, Minho can swear he sees constellations. 

_What the fuck._

“How long are you staying here?”

Minho’s voice must betray him, giving away some of his suppressed anxiety, because Jisung’s expression softens ever so slightly. “Do you perhaps care about me and my whereabouts, Lee Minho?”

_So much. Too much. What are you doing to me?_

Minho snorts, a brew of discomfort welling up in the pit of his stomach. “You wish.”

Jisung’s eyes are searching for a moment, as if he’s waiting for something Minho might say or do, but then the look is gone and Jisung is back to rolling his eyes and laughing. “I’m supposed to go back home to Incheon within the next couple months or so. After all, I don’t have anything here to stay for. Bin-hyung can always come and visit me.”

Minho feels something strange in his chest, like his heart is ready to give out, and it makes him squeeze his hands into fists. “Will you come back?” 

Jisung looks up at him again, an air of mischief hinting in the way his eyes glow and the quirk of his smile. “Be careful, for someone who says they don’t care, you sound an awful lot like you do.”

Minho shudders as Jisung turns away, continuing down the sidewalk as if he hadn’t just rendered Minho speechless. Taking a deep breath, Minho rubs at his forehead to try and calm the headache he feels is coming, and then hurries to catch up with Jisung. 

The walk back to Changbin’s apartment is near-quiet, Jisung mentioning the occasional factoid or something around Gimpo that has interested him while he’s been staying here, and Minho stuffs his hands deep into his pockets for the rest of the trek. He’s unsure of what to do with himself and it seems like the best grounding option he has. 

“Thanks for doing this, hyung would’ve had my head if I hadn’t gotten back safely.” They’ve come to a stop in front of the apartment building door, and Minho can tell something is off with him by the way his fingers are curling around the edges of his sleeves. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, I’m not the weak kid hyung knew from years back.”

“He’s protective, enjoy it,” Minho tells him, unconsciously reaching forward and flicking the pompom of Jisung’s hat, to which Jisung pouts and bats Minho’s hand away. The interaction is surprisingly relaxed and Minho is once again surprised at this sudden compatibility. “Thanks for the walk. I kind of enjoyed it.”

“That seems like you did enjoy it, in Minho talk,” Jisung laughs, tilting his head cutely and punctuating the words with a smile. 

_He can’t be cute._

“Shut up.” Minho would grimace at anyone else but he finds himself smiling without purpose.

Jisung giggles and he’s shaking his head almost fondly. “Thanks, hyung. I’ll see you around.”

Jisung turns away to push open the door of the building and steps inside the lobby without looking back. 

Minho stands outside the door for minutes after, unfocused as a multitude of thoughts and images rush through his mind. Pressing a hand over his chest he sighs, trying in what seems to be a vain attempt to push Jisung’s image, pompom hat and sweater paws and all from his brain. 

“Since when does he call me hyung?”

xxx

Minho is sprawled out on his bed kissing Chan when his phone buzzes.

“Who is it?” Chan asks, red lipped when Minho pulls away, searching for his phone. 

Fingers snagging the device, Minho’s brow furrows for a few seconds as he reads the message before he fully processes it and gulps, discomfort now flowing through him. “A friend from high school,” he tells him, glancing up at Chan, trying to keep his voice even as he fibs. “He wants to meet up now, I haven’t gotten to talk to him in a while so would you mind if we continued this another day?”

Chan shrugs, easily giving in to Minho’s request. He slips off the bed and grabs his shirt, “Have fun, I’ll see you soon?”

Minho nods, watching Chan leave his bedroom before exhaling. He bends to rummage around on the floor for his sweater and after he’s pulled it on he picks up his phone again, staring at the screen. 

[Unknown Number]  
hey its Jisung  
im shit bored, hyungs out and i want to play smth on his console but i have no one to play with :(  
its boring by myself :(

Minho gulps, typing back with shaky fingers. 

[Lee Minho]  
how’d you get my #?

Jisung replies instantly. 

[Unknown Number]  
changbin hyung keeps a list of all ur #s on the fridge cause hes a dumbass and wrecks his phone and doesnt have your #s memorized  
he obv doesnt bother with contact sync

[Lee Minho]  
valid  
so the console you say?

[Unknown Number]  
;)  
be @ the apt in 20, if ur late i get all the good avatars of whatever we play 

[Lee Minho]  
as if you’d ever let me have them anyway 

[Unknown Number]  
:P

If Minho thought Jisung was a new danger to his heart with sweater paws, Jisung in a muscle tee throws him. 

“It’s sort of a mess,” Jisung says, frowning at the couch that’s littered with bags of chips and, not quite to Minho’s full surprise, textbooks. He knows Jisung is smart but doesn’t know why he isn’t currently in school—maybe he is, and is just taking time? Or maybe he dropped out?

Jisung follows his gaze, jumping forward to collect the books and papers into his arms. As he stacks the items up his biceps are left on clear display, not that Minho’s eyes linger on his arms at all. “I’ll go put these away, you just find somewhere chip-free to sit.”

“Will do,” Minho mutters, and sinks onto the left corner of the couch that he usually claims as his own. 

When Jisung returns he slumps down next to him, both of them looking at the controllers set in a basket under the tv. “You want to play?” 

“Do you want to?”

Jisung looks away from him and Minho can see the faintest hint of red on his cheeks. “Honestly I just wanted the company. I actually like talking to you, funny enough.” Minho swats his arm, instantly realizing his mistake when his fingers brush Jisung’s warm skin. “Sorry if that’s weird.”

“No,” Minho responds, staring at his hands to hide his own embarrassment that is steadily coloring his face. “I liked hanging out the other day too.” He won’t ever let Jisung know that he’s ditched Chan for him.

“Okay then, do you want to watch something instead?” 

And so Minho finds himself nodding off to some American drama Jisung had manipulated him into watching, unable to keep his eyes open. Soon he has tucked his feet under him and is curled up, the heaters of the apartment on full blast keeping him perfectly warm. 

He falls into a doze. 

Maybe he’s dreaming, maybe not, but at one point he feels fingers brush over his cheek and it seems just a little too close to realistic. But he doesn’t bother checking and instead lets himself fall fully asleep.

He wakes up the next morning fully stretched out on the couch. He notes a blanket has been thrown over him but it’s positioned so his feet are left out in the cold—possibly purposefully? He wrinkles his nose a bit and blinks a few times, adjusting to his surroundings slowly. He finds a blue sticky note on the table beside him and reaches for it, not remembering having seen one there the night before. 

Strange. 

The writing on the note is slanted slightly and is partial cursive, which Minho finds almost pretty. 

_Minho,  
you passed out at the best part I’m not forgiving you  
anyways I absolutely did not put a blanket over you that was hyung  
also I did not put eggos in the toaster for you to cook, once again that was hyung  
don’t wake me up on the way out, unlike you I actually stayed up to watch all two hours of the movie so I’m tired  
J_

Minho walks away from the apartment with his stomach full and a certain blue sticky note tucked carefully into his pocket so it doesn’t get crumpled.

It doesn’t mean anything. 

Nothing at all.

xxx

The next time Minho sees Jisung is on a Thursday night over at Hyunjin’s place. They’ve all gathered there for pizza and a few movies that no one pays any attention to and instead talk over. Minho is sitting with Felix, a dance major and close friend, talking about his classes, when the door opens and Changbin walks through, followed by Jisung.

Jisung is in black jeans and a dark graphic tee—some American band he’s seen the logo of but can’t place. He looks good, Minho has to admit, watching with a smile as Changbin tugs at Jisung’s red beanie, much to the younger boy’s dismay. 

He’s about to look away, or he’s telling himself he’s about to look away, when Jisung’s gaze darts over to him. Minho feels himself begin to blush from having been caught staring this time around, but the embarrassment is softened when Jisung smiles quietly—not a smirk or anything that screams he’ll be teasing Minho later on. Just a placid smile that makes Minho’s nonsensical heart miss a beat. 

“Hyung.” Minho glances back to Felix who has an eyebrow raised. “You’re staring at Jisung.” 

“I’m not,” Minho laughs, “I looked over to see who was at the door, that’s all.” 

Felix says nothing more but Minho can read the amusement in his expression so he pulls himself up off of the couch and goes in search of something to drink in the kitchen, hoping to calm down from Felix’s obnoxious insight. 

“Hey.” 

Minho turns around so quickly that he almost drops the glass he’s just taken out of the cupboard. Jisung is standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking somewhat unsure of himself and further still upon witnessing Minho’s chaotic response to his greeting.

_Cute._

“Hey?” Minho rests his hip against the edge of the sink, tilting his head a bit to back up his question. “How, how have you been?” 

_Fucking awkward._

Jisung laughs but it’s not in mockery and Minho breathes out a sigh of relief. Being mocked by Jisung would probably kill him. “I’ve been good. I picked up a job, some little convenience store near Bin-hyung’s place. _Jisung pays for groceries_ is the deal we made if I was to live with him, and the part of my savings I can afford to lose is drying up.”

“Oh.” Minho knows the shop in question, having gone there on several occasions when in need of snacks for movie marathons. “Maybe I’ll stop by some time.” 

Jisung smiles and this time it’s bordering on a smirk. “I’d like that.” 

“Hey, Jisung, hey Min.” Jisung startles at the greeting and jumps to the side, letting Chan through the doorway. Minho smiles at Chan, voicing his own greeting when he touches his waist and pecks his cheek. Over Chan’s shoulder Minho can see Jisung’s jaw set and he turns to leave not a second later. 

For the first time ever, Minho wishes Chan hadn’t shown. 

It’s somewhere between the change in movies when Jeongin stumbles through the door. There’s a moment of uproar at the youngest’s arrival, most of them calling him out for being late or calling him out for being loud, but Seungmin’s voice cuts above the others. 

“Hey, what’s that on your cheek?” 

Instantly Jeongin blanches and his hand comes up to cover the offending cheek, but Hyunjin is already out of his chair and prying Jeongin’s hand away. 

It’s a bruise. An ugly green and purple bruise that looks painful. 

“Where’d you get this?” Hyunjin asks, and his voice is deep with tension; he’s always been the most protective of Jeongin out of all of them, despite their year difference with Jeongin still being in his last year of high school. 

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Jeongin says, laughing a bit. 

Hyunjin isn’t convinced; none of them are. “Don’t lie to me, Innie. Don’t discredit our friendship by doing that.” 

Jeongin looks down, properly reprimanded and ashamed, and Changbin places a hand on Hyunjin’s back to bring him back to earth. “Sorry, that was harsh,” Hyunjin murmurs. “Please?” 

Jeongin looks around like he’s trying to find an escape, but he’s surrounded and knows when to give in. “Some guys in my grade like to pick on me, that’s it, okay? Let’s just move on.” 

There’s a minute of horrified silence and then it’s Jisung who is speaking. “You assholes didn’t know he is being bullied?” Jisung asks, his eyes burning with a fever. “What the fuck.” 

Hyunjin looks like he’s about to say something, looking equally angry, but Jisung cuts him off. “Where did they rough you up?” 

“It’s,” Jeongin’s eyes are wide but he’s no match for Jisung’s overflowing aura of anger. “By the corner market down the street is an alley. It’s a shortcut from school to here, that’s where they hang out most of the time.”

“Sung—” 

Changbin tries to grab Jisung’s arm but Jisung brushes him aside easily. “See you later.” 

He slams the door on his way out and Changbin groans, running a hand over his face in exasperation, but Minho can tell that he’s worried. “The idiot’s going to beat up those kids.”

“Hyung shouldn’t go after them, this, fuck,” Jeongin whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. “This is my fault if he gets hurt.” 

Hyunjin glowers at the door, “Jisung is too wild. And messing with problems that don’t concern him.”

“Even if I didn’t want it, Jisung-hyung is the only one of you who actually said something or is doing anything,” Jeongin says, and he looks almost as angry as Jisung had been. “I’m going home, I’ll see you guys later.” 

As Jeongin leaves Minho sees Hyunjin’s expression drop to look completely ridiculed; Minho knows he must feel guilty. He himself does too, even though he’s probably the least close to Jeongin of any of them, including Jisung. 

Ever since Jisung’s arrival he and Jeongin had clicked in a hyung-dongsaeng way that almost rivals blood brothers. Jisung’s protective over Jeongin already, even after just a handful of weeks, and there’s no doubt in Minho’s mind that Jeongin thinks Jisung to be his hero. 

“I’m going to look for Jisung,” Minho announces and is headed towards the door before the words have completely left him. As he grabs his jacket he sees Changbin smile, ever so slightly, out of the corner of his eye.

It takes a few overly-persuasive texts but Jisung eventually gives away his location. Minho finds him in the corner store, slumped over the table in the far corner where customers can eat hot meals. He’s looking away from the door but his gaze shifts when the bell overhead announces Minho’s arrival.

“Hey,” Minho greets when he’s standing beside the table, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. He’d been so focused on finding Jisung that he hadn’t thought about what he should do after.

Jisung glances Minho over, scoffing. “So they sent you to find me.”

“Ji...”

Jisung purses his lips and they both ignore the nickname. He goes to tug at the sleeves of his jacket down and that’s when Minho spots the state of his hands. A couple of his fingers are bleeding amidst what looks like smears of grease and dirt, and there’s a painful-looking scratch over the back of his left hand. 

“Fuck, Ji, don’t tell me—” Minho reaches for Jisung’s hands, not giving either of them time to think about his second slip up.

“I didn’t beat the bastards up,” Jisung says, near confident, but his hands are quivering slightly in Minho’s hold. “In fact, they’re right there.” He nods towards the other side of the store where a handful of high schoolers are arguing.

“Then what..?”

“Buy me food and I’ll tell,” Jisung says, smiling sweetly. Minho’s heart thumps painfully and he glances away again, unable to look him in the eyes. 

“Yeah, okay.”

“Perfect,” Jisung beams, hands slipping from Minho’s hold as he pulls himself to his feet. “I want ramen. They have some here.” 

“Are you insinuating I can’t pay for a better meal?”

Jisung glances over at Minho who falls into step beside him, heading for the aisle offering instant meals. “I’d just like some ramen. But would I be wrong if I was implying that?”

Minho grimaces. “No.”

A laugh bubbles out of Jisung. 

“Here,” Minho says, pulling Jisung’s hands away from his steaming cup and setting them on the counter top. 

“Hey,” Jisung whines, trying to pull away. 

“Shush,” Minho chides as he sets out the antiseptic cream that he’s purchased, along with some kids brand superhero band-aids. “The ramen is still too hot, you’ll burn your tongue. And your hands need to be fixed up.”

Jisung sighs, giving up on escape, and watches as Minho first cleans off his hands, getting rid of the grime, and then dabs cream on the sores and cuts. He hisses when Minho presses too hard against a particularly bad scrape. 

“Sorry,” Minho whispers, meeting Jisung’s eyes. “Should I keep going?”

“Mhm.”

“You know, I’ve still got to thank Binnie for the eggos,” Minho says as he finishes up Jisung’s left hand, blowing lightly on the injuries before bandaging him up. “I really appreciated it. The blanket too.” He lifts Jisung’s right hand and picks up the cream. “Maybe he should be getting these band-aids instead of you. But, after all, you’re Jeongin’s superhero.” 

“Bin-hyung will be pleased to hear that,” Jisung laughs at the continued joke, but his tone is more subdued. “I’m sorry I lashed out at you and everyone earlier. I was bullied in grade school and I know how much it sucks and that’s why I got so upset, I guess. Plus, he’s a good kid. Doesn’t deserve that.” 

Minho places Jisung’s right hand down on the table top and tucks the medical supplies into his pocket for safe keeping. Something about knowing Jisung was bullied rubs him the wrong way—he shouldn’t feel much of anything but here he is feeling angry. 

“Thanks for helping me with this,” Jisung says, holding his hands out in front of him. “You didn’t need to.”

“I wanted to,” Minho replies, sliding Jisung’s food towards him. “Eat up, and then you can tell me what happened.”

Minho stays quiet as Jisung eats. He watches people pass by outside the window and observes the students finally leaving. Jisung scarfs down the meal, obviously hungry, and Minho can’t help but wonder how good of a cooking team he and Changbin are. 

When he finishes Jisung ushers him up and he carries his empty cup stuffed with the wrappers of band-aids to the garbage, Minho following behind. 

“Let’s walk.” Minho agrees and they step outside, wincing a bit at the evening chill. 

“Sorry for worrying you, I mean, all of you. If you were, that is.” Jisung’s hands are stuffed deep in his pockets and his cheeks and ears are red from what must be the cold. “Nothing particularly bad happened. I didn’t confront them. I just found their bikes in that alley Jeongin mentioned.” Minho narrows his eyes. “I took their chains off and threw them away, that’s why my hands are cut up and why they all looked so pissed. At least they didn’t know it was me, or I would have been in for it.”

He’s speaking in a way like he believes Minho will reprimand him, but Minho can’t help but burst out laughing, which slows them both to a stop. “Han Jisung,” he giggles at the boy, “that was brilliant.”

Jisung’s expression morphs from surprise into amusement. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Minho rolls his eyes, “I didn’t know you could be fun.”

“Hey, that’s you! You’re dry,” Jisung retorts, and Minho gasps in mock offense. “For your information I am very fun.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” Minho says, but his smile edges the words with more affection than he planned for. Jisung studies him before smiling back, eyes almost disappearing as they turn to little half-moons. 

“Let’s go,” Minho whispers after a minute, his breath completely stolen, and starts walking again. 

“I don’t want to go back, Bin-hyung will question me and I don’t want to explain,” Jisung sighs, but he looks sleepy. They’ve been walking around for a good thirty minutes, just working off the adrenaline from earlier. 

“Then let’s stay out, but just a little longer,” Minho says, taking Jisung by the wrist and pulling him to an empty bench lining the small grass park near the apartments, that is accessorized with a now-empty kid’s playground. 

Jisung pulls out his phone and unwraps the earbuds that had been wound around it. “Here,” he murmurs, handing Minho one earbud while keeping the other for himself. Minho takes it and puts it in, leaning a bit closer to Jisung so he doesn’t stretch the cord too far. Soon Jisung picks a song—one Minho has heard on the radio but can’t quite place. He’s tired himself, feeling the slight call of sleep in the back of his mind.

One song turns into two and then a slower melody comes on and Minho’s eyebrows furrow. “What’s this one? Never heard it.” 

“ _Close,_ ” Jisung says, and Minho can hear the heavy weight of sleep in his voice. “Close by Han Jisung.”

Minho stills in shock. “You wrote this? It’s you singing?” 

“Mhm,” Jisung’s head drops to rest on Minho’s shoulder and when Minho looks down he sees that the boy’s eyes are closed. “Made it when I was still happy.” 

Minho’s breath catches and he feels a sharp tug deep in his chest. He knows Jisung is sleepy and will tell him probably whatever he wants, making it unfair to question him, but he can’t help the one. “You’re not happy?” 

Jisung nuzzles a bit to get more comfortable, his eyes not opening. “Right now I think I am.” 

Minho’s heart soars and crashes all at once.

xxx

“Why isn’t Jisung getting ready to go back to school? You told me he was here for a just a break?” Minho asks, moving to sit cross legged on the bench that is positioned on his apartment’s balcony, facing out over the city. He had invited Changbin over for chicken and beer, having missed the company of his best friend.

“He’s just going to stay here for a bit,” Changbin replies, fiddling with the beer bottle in his hands. “He’ll head back soon enough.”

Minho glances over at him, his mind at work. There’s too many holes; so many things he’s missing. “There’s more to it than just that, isn’t there?”

Changbin pauses with his fidgeting and Minho’s eyes. There’s something sad in his expression, as if whatever is in the back of his mind is a little too painful to properly voice. “It’s not my story to tell.”

Minho nods, taking a gulp of his own beer. “Does he like school?”

“He’d say no but he does,” Changbin says after a long pause. “He has the full ride, scholarship for academics and music production.” Minho nods, drinking again. “That doesn’t seem to surprise you.”

“He’s smart and talented, that’s easy enough to see.” Minho answers. “I assume he does well.”

Changbin raises his drink to his lips. “He does.”

“He’s not in school now, is he.”

It’s not a question, and Minho knows he’s right when he hears Changbin sigh. 

They drink in silence until the remainder of alcohol is nearly gone and Minho’s body is tingling with warmth, his head the tiniest bit fuzzy. “He’ll tell you why,” Changbin eventually says, tapping his fingers against the glass of his bottle. 

“Me?”

Changbin stares at him for a long second, his gaze burning into the side of his head. “Yeah. And you know why he will.”

Minho drains the remainder of his beer, the alcohol burning his throat. 

Minho stays on his balcony after Changbin leaves, sitting in silence and listening to the sounds of cars passing stories below. Minho feels the cold seep into his bones as the alcohol gradually leaves his system, the slight dampness in the air hinting at oncoming frost. 

He thinks about Jisung, and the way Jisung’s eyes always shine with the heat of the cold.

xxx

The time before Minho sees Jisung again passes too slowly. They text, they text quite a lot, and Jisung’s thread is quickly building in length, soon to rival even Changbin’s.

Minho finds himself blowing off Chan’s invitations to spend hours exchanging messages about movies and books, even about Minho’s dance career and Jisung’s song recommendations. He appreciates Jisung’s humor; though it’s often dry it never fails to make him laugh. Jisung shares very little about himself, though, which is a bit off putting but Minho knows not to push him. His and Changbin’s conversation rings loud in his head.

And here he is, at a party of one of Changbin and Hyunjin’s mutual friends, dressed in leather pants and a slightly scratchy black sweater dotted with threads of silver. 

He could be dancing but instead he stands off to the side, away from the crowds of people, waiting for Jisung who had texted him he’d be showing up tonight. 

Minho tells himself he’d wait like this for any of his friends.

He can’t make himself completely believe it. 

Minho looks up every time the door swings open but to no avail, and he’s about to turn away and find one of his friends to mingle with when it opens once more. He looks up and his breath catches in his throat. 

Jisung is standing in the doorway, looking completely unsure of himself. He’s wearing black jeans and a white flowing long sleeve shirt that is already drawing attention to him in the throngs of dark-clad bodies. Felix, who is at his side, whispers something into his ear and then darts off, leaving Jisung alone. 

Minho knows he’s staring but also knows he can’t look away, so he gives in, waiting for Jisung’s searching eyes to find him in the crowd. When Jisung does, he lights up with a smile and hurries in Minho’s direction. 

As he walks closer Minho can see that his collarbones are displayed by the dip of his shirt, and several thin silver chains are looped around his neck at different heights. A small silver feather is fixed to the last, the ornament resting at the hollow of his throat. Minho finds himself suddenly lightheaded, and he feels warm, no doubt from the masses of bodies around them. 

“Hi,” Jisung says when he’s standing directly in front of Minho, while twisting the rings on his fingers; a sign of nervousness, as Minho has learned. He’s smiling but it barely reaches his eyes and Minho can see anxiety, plain as day, in the way he carries himself. It’s so different from how Jisung normally acts that Minho doesn’t know what to do. 

“Hi,” Minho parrots, taking in the kohl lining Jisung’s already large eyes. There’s glitter highlighting his cheeks and Jisung is _glowing_ in the dark room. Minho’s chest cramps painfully and his heart is racing so quickly he finds that it is a little hard to breathe. “You actually came?” he asks, willing away whatever has come over his body. 

“Changbin-hyung said I needed to show up.” Jisung purses his lips, obviously displeased with the way his eyebrows pull together. “And then Felix dragged me to the mall because I don’t have ‘party clothes.’ We were there for _three hours_. I’ve never had to try on so many fucking clothes.”

Minho laughs at Jisung’s pained expression, though he does feel a measure of sympathy for him. “You look good, though.”

“I don’t look like myself,” Jisung tugs at the silky sleeve of his shirt. “With the makeup and this. But apparently I look pretty or whatever.” 

“You always look pretty.”

Jisung freezes in place, staring up at Minho with those almond eyes that are now filled with shock instead of stars, and Minho is taken off guard by his own words, his heart beating double-time as punishment. Jisung opens his mouth to answer but falters, and it takes him a few seconds to school his expression into a teasing smile. “Was that a compliment, Lee Minho?”

“Take it how you will,” Minho replies, focusing hard on each word to keep his voice from shaking. 

Jisung smiles fully, and his eyes are shining with mischief. “Help me with something?”

“What is it?”

“Help me sneak out of here. Hyung says I have to stay for at least an hour but I’m starving and western food is calling me.”

Minho purses his lips, his eyes darting over Jisung’s face. “Fine,” he eventually agrees and feels as though he’s made the right choice when Jisung’s eyes brighten. “But I have two conditions.”

“What are they?” Jisung asks, pushing away a few grey locks of hair that have fallen in front of his eyes. 

“First, I get to come with you.” 

A smile slowly grows to tug at Jisung’s lips. “Craving my company or just trying to get away?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Minho quips, and his answer makes Jisung laugh. “So?”

Jisung bites his lip, “Fine. But you pay for your own food.” Minho nods. “What’s the second condition?”

“You have to dance with me before we leave,” Minho says, and it’s his turn to smile. “Just one song.”

Jisung’s eyebrows furrow as he contemplates. “Why should I do that?”

“Because you’ve been here for weeks now and we still haven’t danced together.”

Jisung shakes his head, meeting Minho’s smile with his own. “You drive a hard bargain.”

Minho nods, all seriousness, “What’s the verdict?”

Jisung wets his lips as he makes his final choice. “Okay,” he gives. “But only one song.”

Minho wonders what made him want to dance with Jisung, why he would put himself through the torture. Because Jisung is a great dancer and in Minho’s partially intoxicated state the allure of Jisung moving so fluidly, so _seductively_ just inches from him sends him into partial panic. 

Jisung smiles up at Minho, somehow completely at ease. It’s enough of a draw that Minho’s hand finds its way to Jisung’s waist, the boy gasping oh so quietly into the loud of the room.

And then Minho makes the fatal mistake, his heart beating erratically as, with one glance, he falls helplessly into the glittering depths of Jisung’s dark eyes, a hell of his own making. His thoughts speed by, all filled with Jisung and his brilliant smile, the dip of his clavicle, the way his slim fingers push escaping hair off of his forehead. 

Two things are clear. One, Jisung is the most stunning person Minho has ever seen. Minho thinks to Chan but he notes with a nervous breath that not even Chan is as graceful or as beautiful as the boy in front of him, the boy with a shimmering aura and stars in his eyes. 

The second is that Jisung has ruined him. He’s taken control of Minho’s emotions, playing him easily with his laughs and clever words. 

Han Jisung has turned him into a fool.

“The song’s over,” Jisung says, dragging Minho from that euphoric space between all the stars in his eyes and back to reality. His cheeks are flushed, matching Minho’s, and his lips have curved up in a playful smile, completely unaware of the turbulence inside of Minho’s head. “Ready to go?”

Minho nods. 

Unlike the scattering of boys Minho has dated over the years as he’s pined after Chan, Jisung doesn’t restrict what he eats. Even Chan counts his calories to an extent, but Jisung sits across from Minho with greasy fingers, scarfing down his second burger at a speed rivaling Minho’s own. 

“I know you want to ask and won’t,” Jisung says, eyes flicking over Minho’s face, “I don’t diet.” Minho flinches, wondering how Jisung picked up on his unvoiced question. “My metabolism is fairly high,” Jisung explains, “with that plus my workout routine I stay fit. I, uh, Changbin-hyung doesn’t know because he has enough shit on his plate, but when I started uni I was pressured into a crash diet. By my ex.” Minho’s eyes widen but Jisung shrugs it off, finishing his burger. “It…it wasn’t good. But once it started affecting my performance in my daily life I stopped.” His eyes are far away and Minho can tell he’s reliving memories. “I was able to. I wasn’t addicted to checking my weight every day, monitoring my calorie intake on my phone. I promised myself I would never diet again.”

“Jisung…” 

“Don’t pity me, yeah?” Jisung sends him a bright smile, one that Minho can tell is real. “I don’t want that. What’s done is done, and now I’m here. Eating french fries at one in the morning. Life is great.” 

Minho snorts, finishing off the last of his own burger. “You’ve drained my bank account, Han Jisung.” 

“I told you to pay for your food, not both of ours!” Jisung looks properly disgruntled and Minho coos, reaching across to pinch his pink cheek. 

There’s a moment then, before Minho retracts his hand and looks away, when their eyes meet and Minho swears on everything he’s known that Jisung is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen; glowing under the artificial light of the restaurant.

“Could I walk you home after this?” Minho asks after clearing his throat, embarrassment taught within him.

Jisung peers across at him, an eyebrow raised, “It sounds like the end of a date, walking me home, that is.” 

“It isn’t,” Minho refutes with a groan and the younger boy laughs. “But, will you let me?” 

“I wasn’t smart enough to bring a jacket,” Jisung mumbles when they’re just a block away from the fast food joint, and when Minho looks over Jisung is rubbing his arms to keep warm. 

“Take mine,” Minho says, automated as if he does this frequently. He shrugs off his blazer he’d picked up on the way out of the party and holds it out to Jisung. “It’s not all that warm but it’s better than nothing.”

Jisung tentatively takes the blazer, and his fingertips are like ice when they brush Minho’s. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m not the one who looks like he’s going to keel over from the cold.”

Jisung wrinkles his nose up at him while pulling the jacket on. It’s too big, his fingers hidden, but he smiles brightly and with thanks at Minho anyhow. “Thank you.”

Minho nods and stuffs his hands into his pants pockets. “No problem.”

They walk along in silence for a few minutes, side by side with their footsteps in sync. “This is terribly cliche,” Jisung chooses to comment just as the silence grows a bit too loud. “I never thought I would take a jacket from a guy because I was cold.”

Minho laughs, watching the ground as he mindlessly voices his thoughts. “Are you going to fall in love with me now, Han Jisung?”

Jisung misses a step, tripping himself up and almost falling. He catches himself just in time and runs a hand through his hair, ruffling the strands out of place, eyes wide. “Lee Minho, why on earth would I ever fall in love with you?”

Minho smiles, but something strange crashes and breaks to pieces inside of him. “You tell me.”

Jisung looks up at him, his eyes twinkling with the illusion of humor. “You’re not my type.”

“And what would your type be?” Minho presses, finding himself truly interested.

“Mm, the guy would have to be dumber than dirt because I can’t stand to be outsmarted,” Jisung starts off. “He’d have to be a real hunk, too. I’ve got to have someone nice-looking on my arm.”

Minho laughs as he brushes his own bangs from in front of his eyes. “Anything else?”

Jisung falls silent for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the cement of the ground. Minho glances over to him, and a sense of worry builds up in his thoughts as he takes in Jisung’s sullen expression. “He’d have to be honest,” Jisung tells Minho quietly, but it sounds like he’s talking to himself in a way. “Dishonesty is something I couldn’t live with in a relationship. And he would have to be sweet and kind, empathetic and level-headed. Everything I’m not. I—when I’m with him I want to be me, you know? Not have to pretend to be someone I’m not. I need someone who’ll understand all of me and keep me grounded.” He glances up at Minho, a faint blush hinting at his cheeks. “Sorry, I was rambling.”

“He’ll be a lucky guy, whoever he is,” Minho says, and something strange cuts through his veins, something that almost mirrors jealousy. 

“My dumbass hunk?” Jisung grins, and his words snap Minho from his worries with a laugh. “Like I’m such a catch to begin with.”

“What do you mean?” Minho asks. “You’re smart and beautiful and deep down under all your sarcasm you’re caring.”

Jisung’s fingers twist together. “Compliment?”

“Do you doubt me?”

Jisung smiles, his gaze back to being solely focused on the sidewalk ahead of them. “Thanks for paying for my food back there, you didn’t need to.”

“No problem,” Minho reassures him, “I’m glad I was able to escape the party.”

“I was surprised you wanted to leave. I mean, I saw Chan there, and you two are,” Jisung gestures awkwardly, “close.” 

“I don’t need to be around him every second,” Minho says with a tiny bit too much force, and it startles Jisung into a wide-eyed look. 

“Okay,” Jisung murmurs, smiling just slightly. 

They slow to a stop in front of the doors to Changbin’s building, and at the pause Jisung goes to pull off Minho’s blazer but Minho shakes his head. “Keep it. You might get cold in the elevator. Just return it to me another time, don’t worry about it.” 

“Oh.” Jisung blinks up at him in a sense of confusion but his hand drops. “Thank you. For the jacket and dinner.” 

“Of course.” They exchange brief smiles and Minho gets one more fleeting glance at Jisung’s unparalleled eyes, and then Jisung is turning away and stepping away from Minho; a simple movement that hurts far more than it should.

For some reason Minho doesn’t want him to leave. 

“Jisung?” 

He turns around instantly at Minho’s call and Minho wonders if Jisung is thinking the same as him. “Yeah?”

_Was this a date? Because it felt like one._

Minho scoffs at his internal thoughts, tired of his mind trying to connect him to Jisung. “Forget it, it’s nothing. I’ll see you soon?”

Jisung smiles, eyes curving up. “Yeah. Goodnight, hyung.”

xxx

It’s just a few days later when Minho gets truly worried over Jisung. He knows how Jisung texts by now, so when Jisung starts sending him one or two word answers or worse, sentences with punctuation, he knows something is wrong.

He masks it as a visit to see Changbin but in reality when Minho knocks on the apartment door all he’s thinking about is Han Jisung, the stupid pretty boy who has been stuck in his brain for much too long now. 

A few beats later a voice shouts from within that the door is unlocked and Minho almost wants to laugh, but his worry outweighs the humor. Turning the handle he steps inside and quickly shuts the door behind him to keep in the heat. In front of him, slumped on the couch, is Jisung. 

“I could have been a serial killer,” Minho scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s a peephole for a reason.” 

“I should have kept the door locked, to keep you away,” Jisung grumbles, but there isn’t hostility to his words. “Why are you here?” 

“You’ve been acting weird, I got worried,” Minho admits. He tugs off his shoes and walks over to plop down on the couch beside the boy, who is now looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “Jisung,” Minho starts, “what’s going on?”

Jisung groans, rubbing at his reddened eyes that Minho can now clearly see. “Did hyung arrange this? Why are you always the one to hunt me down?” 

“If Bin had set this up, who would you have preferred to come?”

Jisung stares at him for a long moment, his lips pressed together in a line, before he changes the subject. “Why are you here?”

“Because I’m a good listener,” Minho says, “that is, if you have anything you’re willing to talk about.”

Jisung frowns, his eyes narrowing at Minho. “What makes you think you’re so special?”

“I was able to get you to like me,” Minho says, smirking as he side eyes Jisung. “You were awful when we first met, but now you’ve become pretty tame.” Jisung punches his shoulder, glaring at him, but Minho can pick up traces of laughter in his eyes. “Think about it, okay? I’m going to go get some snacks from the store because I’ve been craving candy all day. I’ll be back.”

Jisung nods and Minho stands up, putting on his shoes and then letting himself out. 

“Oh my god.”

“What?” Minho asks, glancing up. 

“How could you do that to the poor fucking gummy bear,” Jisung whispers, “don’t you know you always bite the head off first? It’s humane that way.”

Minho looks at the bag of Haribos in his lap. “I’m sorry?” 

They’re sitting on the floor, Jisung with his side against the couch while Minho sits cross-legged. Between them is an assortment of snacks and though there’s other candies Jisung keeps leaning over to steal Minho’s gummies. 

Minho doesn’t stop him. He doesn’t let himself think about why he won’t. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked about why I’m here,” Jisung murmurs after he glares at Minho until he begins to eat the gummies the apparent correct way. “At hyung’s, I mean. Why I’m not in school.” 

“I have asked Changbin about it but never pried,” Minho admits. “I figured if you ever wanted me to know you’d tell me.” 

“That’s kind of nice of you, hyung,” Jisung murmurs, wrapping an arm around his legs to pull his knees to his chest. 

“It’s weird when you call me hyung,” Minho says, trying to distract them both from the warmth in his cheeks. 

“You’d like it better if I drop honorifics?”

“No,” Minho grumbles, swatting at Jisung’s shoulder while attempting to ignore the boy’s laughter. He tries not to think about how beautiful Jisung’s laugh is.

“I was studying music production with a minor in business,” Jisung says after they’ve both calmed down, and he moves to rest his chin on his knees. “My parents said they would only help pay for everything aside from what my scholarship covered if I chose what they considered was a practical minor. I didn’t mind though, not as long as I got to also study what I wanted to.” Minho nods, watching as Jisung’s eyelashes flutter as he speaks. “I met a guy in my practical music class. He was a junior, cute, smart, nice. I was so surprised when he asked me out because I was a lowly freshman.” 

“It was good at first, he practically doted on me which I didn’t know how to feel about, I like being able to accomplish my own stuff but it is nice to feel appreciated.” Jisung scratches the fabric of his jeans with a fingernail. “About a month into our relationship I found out he was into drugs, along with a few other guys in my class. I broke up with him when he tried to make me use.”

Minho’s heart pounds at the discomfort of Jisung’s words and he reaches out to touch Jisung’s elbow. When Jisung doesn’t pull away Minho, with a jolt of confidence, trails his fingers along Jisung’s forearm to his hand, resting his on top of Jisung’s. 

“He kept after me,” Jisung sighs, “he was so fucking possessive I could hardly go anywhere without seeing him. I was afraid to go back to my dorm because he hung around the building so much. But my room was the only place I really felt safe.” 

“He kept finding ways to message me even after I blocked his number. I honestly don’t know why I never told anyone what was happening.”

Minho’s stomach twists painfully, watching Jisung’s emotionless expression as he recounts. 

[☆]

“It was so fucked,” Jisung says, his voice lowering. “And then one night I had gotten back late from the library after one of my lectures and was dead on my feet. I was so fucking stupid, I forgot to lock my door.” Minho’s body goes rigid, Jisung glancing over, worry in his eyes. “I can stop, hyung. I know this is...I’m sure it’s not exactly fun to listen to.”

“If you want to tell me I’ll listen,” Minho replies, and hope burns through his veins when Jisung shoots him a tiny smile and takes the final step of sliding his hand into Minho’s. 

“He didn’t do anything to me,” Jisung says and relief hits Minho in waves. “But I found a note on the floor by the foot of my bed that said I looked hot while I slept and that he missed me badly. He said I would regret it if I didn’t come back to him. And to believe him, because look what he’d already managed to do.” 

[☆]

Jisung lets his head thump against the foot of the couch, his grip on Minho’s hand near-bruising. “I was scared shitless, I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know hardly anyone on campus that I was comfortable talking to. But that didn’t matter because a few days later the asshole apparently got tired of me refusing him and planted hard drugs in my locker at the studio.”

Minho inhales sharply, the turn of Jisung’s story sudden and awful. Jisung glances at him, vision clouded. “There were regular checks through the lockers since a portion are communal and obviously a staff member found the drugs. I could’ve explained the situation, I tried to, but the head of the administration dealing with me was my ex’s aunt. She knew about our breakup and thought I was petty enough to try and get him kicked out using the drugs. I took a drug test and of course I was clean, but his aunt was pitted against me and had fed the staff lies and soon enough I lost my scholarship and was kicked from the school.”

“What’s fucked up is I was a top student, I had a clean record, was polite and always did what the professors asked of me. I went through hell to get into that university and then they expelled me so easily.” Jisung lets out a slow breath as he looks down at their hands. “I came here to stay with Changbin-hyung while I figure out what I’m going to do next. I had to get out of Incheon, it was suffocating. The people who believed in me my whole life stopped.”

“Jisung,” Minho murmurs, horrified by the look of abandonment on Jisung’s face. 

“Are you going to pity me, now?” Jisung’s voice is quiet, small. “Now that you know?” 

Minho leans against the couch, watching Jisung closely. “If I were to say maybe, just a little bit, what would you do?” 

Jisung blinks, and Minho can see the glass sheeting his eyes. Jisung appears more vulnerable than Minho has ever seen him, and Minho wants to make it better. 

He has no idea how, but he _has_ to make it better. 

“I’d say I’m tired of telling people not to pity me,” Jisung breathes, and his gaze is near-tortured and pulling Minho in. “But if you say you’re sorry this has happened to me, I think I’ll finally fall apart.” There are tears in Jisung’s glass eyes but he doesn’t let them fall. “And I can’t afford to break right now, so don’t say sorry. Please, Minho.” Jisung is begging, and it breaks Minho’s heart right in half. 

Minho doesn’t say anything; instead he stands up and pulls Jisung with him, the boy squeaking in surprise. Without much effort Minho pulls Jisung into an embrace, one which Jisung doesn’t try to escape from. Instead Jisung sighs and pushes closer to Minho, his arms wrapping around his waist as his forehead drops to rest on Minho’s shoulder. 

_I’m proud of you,_ is what Minho murmurs into his hair a few minutes later. Jisung’s gasp is soft but there, and his fingers dig into the back of Minho’s sweater at the surprise of the words. 

“Tell me again,” tumbles past Jisung’s lips, nearly inaudible. His words are shaking, and so are his hands. 

One of Minho’s hands slides into the hair at the back of Jisung’s head, and he hears a sigh from the boy pressed against him. “I’m proud of you, Jisung.” 

And he is.

xxx

After a grueling day of work Minho finds himself at a movie night and impromptu slumber party with his friends and Jisung. It’s Friday evening, one of the only times all of them are able to get together. A few months ago Minho would have been lounging in the loveseat beside Chan or pestering Changbin on the overstuffed arm chair, but tonight he’s sat at the base of the couch, swathed in blankets with his side flush up against a certain Han Jisung who is in a similar blanket burrito state.

He wonders, half way through the cheesy Hallmark story line of the movie that had been put on, why the pressure of Jisung’s head on his shoulder as the boy drifts in and out of a doze feels so nice. Maybe even _right?_

He wonders what Changbin’s smile means when he catches Minho’s eyes. It’s a softened smile, and Minho feels like Changbin suddenly has the keys to his mind, understanding things Minho can’t, though they’re a part of him. 

He wonders why he tips his own head against Jisung’s, so his cheek is pressed against his silky hair. He wonders why he wants to wrap an arm around Jisung and pull him even closer. 

The ruckus of the boys moving about when the movie ends wakes Jisung up with a start, and for a second he looks to be in complete sleep-confused panic before realization hits him and he sinks back against the couch and away from Minho.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” Minho teases and Jisung rolls his eyes, hiding a yawn behind his hand. “You missed the end of the movie.” 

“I’m sure it was over the top with dramatics and heterosexuality, I don’t think I missed too much.” 

Minho nods, “You didn’t. I’m sorry they woke you up, we’re all about to go to sleep anyhow.” 

Jisung shrugs, pushing himself from the couch to slide closer to the wall with a pillow from the couch under his arm and the blankets from earlier still wrapped around him. He falls flat on his back with a sigh but he looks tense, and Minho can’t help but go to him after stealing a pillow from Changbin. 

“Hey, are you okay?” He murmurs when he’s settled a few feet from Jisung. 

Jisung looks up at him, and there’s something clouding his normally vivid eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Minho stares down at Jisung from his sitting position for a long minute, noting how Jisung’s hands shake ever so slightly and how he doesn’t keep eye contact. 

“I’ll sleep here,” Minho tells him, gesturing to the space between them. “If that’s okay.”

A bit of the tension drains out of Jisung’s shoulders and Minho feels a twinge of relief. Grabbing some blankets he spreads them out and falls onto his back beside Jisung, groaning a bit at the impact. 

“Night, you asses,” Hyunjin calls from the doorway, and flips off the lights. Jisung inhales sharply and then it hits Minho. The dark, Jisung being surrounded by people while he sleeps. 

_Stupid._

Minho grabs his phone, thankful that he and Jisung are partially hidden behind the couch so the light, even at the lowest setting, won’t bother the others. He taps on the case, glancing over at Jisung who’s looking at him in confusion. Minho gestures towards Jisung’s phone that is laying beside him and Jisung takes it into his hands, eyebrows furrowed. 

[Minho]  
fuck I forgot about everything that happened and that you obviously wouldn’t want to sleep around people

[Jisung]  
ig im not good at hiding it lol

[Minho]  
nah, i just know you by now

[Jisung]  
that was unnecessarily sweet  
when did u turn into a sap

[Minho]  
i AM a sap have you not noticed??

[Jisung]  
haha

They descend into a conversation about which movies are the best and Minho has to bite his lip to keep from laughing, as Jisung’s dry humor is ever amusing. 

[Jisung]  
i cant believe youve never watched into the spiderverse who even are you

[Minho]  
sorry!!!

[Jisung]  
this situation must be rectified we’re going to watch it NO COMPLAINTS!! 

[Minho]  
okay :] 

[Jisung]  
thats a shitty smiley face 

[Minho]  
why’re you always hating on me,,

[Jisung]  
it looks like u when u make the duck face 

[Minho]  
wtf?

[Jisung]  
the face u make when ur bored or annoyed  
u stretch ur lips out and ur eyes get glazed over nd u look like a duck

[Minho]  
,,

[Jisung]  
ask any of the others theyll say the same thing 

[Minho]  
I hate you, Han Jisung

Jisung snorts from beside him.

[Jisung]  
you love me  
dont fool urself  
:] 

[Minho]  
I’ll beat you up

[Jisung]  
u couldnt beat anyone up ur too soft

[Minho]  
wow it’s really bash minho day

[Jisung]  
no!!! i mean ur super nice to everyone like u dont have a mean bone in ur body or whatever the saying is  
i think causing someone physical pain would hurt u more than them

Minho’s cheeks flush and he doesn’t dare look over at Jisung. 

[Minho]  
Han Jisung at two in the morning is sweet  
does the night draw out his hidden soft boy?

[Jisung]  
shut up u ass

[Minho]  
annnd it’s gone 

Minho glances at Jisung, chest warm when he sees him smiling at his phone. 

[Minho]  
are you feeling better now?

[Jisung]  
yea with the wall on my other side and u i feel ok  
even if u couldnt beat someone up if they came over here

[Minho]  
I would beat someone up for you

[Jisung]  
ur all mushy i dont like it

[Minho]  
haha  
but really, don’t worry alright?  
you’re safe here

[Jisung]  
its stupid im almost twenty and scared of the dark

[Minho]  
everyone’s scared of something  
I’m terrified of swans

[Jisung]  
lol what

[Minho]  
when I was little my mom and I went to a park we lived close to and we were eating sandwiches as we walked around the pond  
some swans spotted our food and came after us  
the bastards chased us back to the fucking car. I’ve never been so freaked out in my LIFE

Jisung stifles a laugh with his hand. 

[Jisung]  
LMFAO  
i wouldve paid good money to see that

[Minho]  
does making fun of me make you feel better

[Jisung]  
,,, yeah

[Minho]  
then so be it  
but I’m tired  
do you think you’ll be able to sleep?

[Jisung]  
can i try smth?

[Minho]  
yeah

When Minho looks over at Jisung he’s already looking back, chewing on his bottom lip. Ever so slightly he inches over until he’s half on Minho’s blankets, and their shoulders touching. He glances up at Minho, eyes big and sleepy, and ignoring the emotions swirling in his mind Minho moves his arm so Jisung can pillow his head on the joint of his shoulder. A tentative hand slides to rest on the side of Minho’s stomach and he inhales shakily. 

“Is this okay?” Jisung asks and Minho is glad he can’t see the boy or he would fall right into the trap of Jisung’s _stupid_ eyes. 

“Yeah,” Minho whispers, light-headed as the scent of lavender and something that he can’t place but is distinctly _Jisung_ surrounds him. The warmth of his body pressed against Minho’s side makes a shiver run up his spine, despite the comfort that Minho is pulling from the contact. 

“Thank you,” Jisung whispers after a minute, “I don’t say it a lot and I should, especially to you. You’re...you’ve helped me process a lot while I’ve been here.”

Minho’s heart leaps. “I’m trying my best.”

“I know,” Jisung says, his voice light and hard to nail down and analyze, “and it’s wonderful. That you would do all of this for someone you don’t know well.”

“I can understand you now, most times, but I still don’t know what your favorite color is. If you have siblings. I want to know though. Everything.”

“Really?” Jisung’s voice is strained. 

“Really.”

And then, slowly, Jisung starts talking. About Incheon, his family, his interests, and likes and dislikes. As he talks they shift position, Minho’s body curving towards Jisung with the younger’s head resting under his chin, Minho’s arm wrapped firm around his waist. Jisung’s voice grows gentle with oncoming sleep and Minho finds himself tracing patterns on his back, leaving Jisung to sigh in content. He knows he should pull away, that he has to, but he can’t bring himself to move from Jisung’s warmth. 

“...and that was the first time I ever rode a bike. Ended in disaster.” His voice is soft, so soft Minho can hardly hear him anymore. 

“You should sleep now,” Minho whispers, petting his hair. “I’ll be here all night, I won’t let anything happen.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jisung mutters, the words caught in a yawn. “Thank you.”

Minho smiles, his mind a mess as he runs his fingers through Jisung’s hair, feeling his breathing even out almost immediately. 

“I’ll be here,” Minho whispers into the silence, pressing his lips to the top of Jisung’s head. 

It has to mean something. 

Doesn’t it?

xxx

[Binnie]  
Jisung’s not replying to my messages  
can you go check on him?

[Minnie]  
where is he?

[Binnie]  
the apartment

[Minnie]  
omw

[Binnie]  
thanks, Minho

Minho makes it to Changbin’s apartment in record time, spurred on by the worry eating away at him. Raising a hand he knocks on the wood of the door and then steps back to wait. 

After a few long minutes during which Minho begins to get lost in his head, the sound of the bolt unlocking fills the quiet hallway and the door is pulled open, revealing Jisung. “Minho?”

“You look like shit,” is what spills out of Minho’s mouth, unhelpfully. And he does, hair a mess and bags under his eyes, with an oversized shirt on that has a stain on the sleeve paired hideous pink plaid pajama pants. 

Jisung squints at him, frowning, before slamming the door shut. 

“Jisung,” Minho groans, cursing his lack of a filter. He presses a hand flat against the door, “I didn’t mean that.”

Jisung scoffs on the other side. 

“Maybe I did,” Minho says, “but I didn’t mean it in an offensive way. Please… Let me in? I’m relatively good company.”

Silence hangs thick around Minho and after a minute his hand drops from the door and he sighs, running nervous fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I—I’ll see you soon.”

He walks away, shame burning his insides, but just as he reaches the top of the stairwell the sound of the door clicking open again rings through the hallway. 

“Wait.”

Minho swivels around to face Jisung who is standing on the welcome mat, hands rubbing his arms to keep warm. “Come on, you asshole.”

Minho breathes a sigh of relief and hurries back to Jisung, following him into the bubble of heat that is the apartment. “Sorry,” he says when he’s tugging off his shoes and Jisung is sinking down onto the couch. “I was mean. ‘m sorry.” 

“I’m just touchy today,” Jisung murmurs, picking at a loose string sticking from a seam of his pants. Minho crosses to sit on his other side, watching the boy silently. “I’m good at repressing all my emotions about everything that happened, but sometimes they all bubble up and I get ugly. Sorry.” 

Minho notices the way that Jisung’s eyes glitter like the sun on ice—like the ice shielding his eyes has not seconds before it will melt to tears. He thinks, thinks of anything that will make Jisung’s tears not fall but he can’t pinpoint any ideas. 

Instead, his thoughts fall to one of his own memories. 

“Come here,” Minho says, grabbing Jisung and dragging him by the wrist to the pile of shoes in the entryway, slipping into his. Jisung peers up at him, confused, but Minho urges him on. 

Once they both have coats on as well, Minho leads Jisung to the back door, pulling it open and stepping out into the frigid air. Cars breathe noise into the frosty streets below the balcony and the air around them is chilled and closing in like fog. “I don’t know if it’ll help you but when I was little my cat got run over. I was so so angry and hurt, and my mom told me to scream it out. So I went out onto our porch and screamed until I couldn’t anymore, and then I felt so much lighter.”

“Are you telling me to scream? Right now?” Jisung asks, eyebrows raising in a moment of amusement. 

Minho nods. “Yeah.”

Jisung stares at him, his eyes ever large and calculating, as if he has to figure the entirety of the world out first before living. “I—fine. But if we get evicted from noise complaints you’re to blame.”

Minho laughs and nods. Jisung turns away, staring into the fog, the city buildings opposite hardly visible. 

Jisung’s scream is something Minho will never forget. It’s filled with anger and hate, ringing loud and hauntingly in his ears. But Minho can pick up the exact moment when the cry changes to despair, to hopelessness. His screams begin to lose power after long minutes, his hands trembling from emotion, and the noise lowers further to nothing but choked sobs. Minho rushes forward to pull the boy to him, an arm wrapping around his waist as his other hand cradles the back of Jisung’s head, settling it into place under his chin. 

“I’ve got you,” Minho whispers, squeezing his own eyes closed to hold in tears, “I’m right here. You’re safe, everything’s going to be alright.”

And it will be, Minho thinks as Jisung’s body shakes in his hold, once Jisung is ready to let go. But for now he needs comfort, a hug, the promise that he’ll be protected, that he’s loved. 

Minho realizes when Jisung raises his head, staring up at him with reddened eyes and tear stained cheeks, that this is the first time Jisung has let himself cry from the pain of losing it all. 

“Thanks,” Jisung whispers, voice hoarse, as he accepts a mug of tea from Minho. He holds it in both hands, his legs folded under him and a dark blue blanket wrapped around his body. 

Minho sits down on the couch next to him, and his gaze falls to his fingers. “Jisung?”

“Hm?” Jisung glances to him, mug raised to his lips. 

“I’m proud of you. For handling everything. But you’re not alone, you know that, right? Changbin and all the others—they’re going to always be here for you, if you want them.” Minho reaches out, wiping a stray tear off of Jisung’s cheek, and his skin is so soft under his thumb. “And me. I—we’re not going to leave you alone.”

Jisung looks down, lips pressed in a thin line, and Minho can so easily see he’s trying hard to hold it together. Setting down his mug on the coffee table, Jisung wriggles around until he’s resting his head on Minho’s thighs, fingers curled around his knee. 

“Can I just—can we stay like this for a bit?”

Minho weaves his fingers into Jisung’s hair, playing with the soft strands. He knows Jisung can hear the silent yes. 

Jisung is dozing, slipping in and out of sleep, but is so obviously trying to stay awake. Minho wants to coo and pinch his cheek but he knows he shouldn’t, shouldn’t want to, so instead he helps Jisung to his feet to bring him to his bed. 

Changbin’s guest room is similar to how it has always been, but there’s clothes in the open closet and the floor is scattered with this and that. There’s a guitar propped up against the foot of the bed and Minho wonders if Jisung will show him one day, he would love to hear him play. 

Jisung collapses onto his bed, landing in the tangle of sheets. “Thank you.” 

“No problem.” Minho begins to back towards the door but Jisung calls for him before he can make an escape. 

“Minho?”

“Hm?”

Jisung shuffles around a bit on the bed, staring up at Minho with half-lidded sleepy eyes in the dim lighting. “I’m sorry ‘bout your cat.”

Minho chuckles, reaching forward to brush a bit of hair out of Jisung’s eyes before he can stop himself. “Thanks.”

“Minho?”

“Yeah?” Minho moves to pull the covers over his frame and closer to Jisung’s chin. 

“Tomorrow…I,” Jisung bites his lip, fingers curving around Minho’s wrist to keep him from stepping away again. “I’m not strong enough to deal with these emotions. I need to, I have to pretend this didn’t happen.”

Minho’s heart sinks with grief for Jisung, but he knows he can’t fully change his pain. Only lessen it, however slightly. “Okay.” 

“Can I ask you to stay?” Jisung asks, looking anywhere but at Minho. “In the living room? Until Bin-hyung comes back? I don’t want to be alone.” 

Minho agrees without hesitation. “If you want me to stay I will, of course I will.” 

“I know you won’t leave me,” Jisung whispers, and there’s relief but also exhaustion rippling in his voice. “‘cause you keep me safe.”

Minho’s breath is caught in his throat. “Yeah.”

“Hyung,” Jisung’s eyes slide further shut and he cranes his head back to be able to meet Minho’s gaze. “You’re my person. The one that makes me feel safe and happy. You should know that by now, though.”

As Jisung falls fully asleep, still clutching Minho’s wrist, Minho wonders. Wonders if he should have replied to Jisung’s sleep-heavy words. He wonders what his reply means.

_You’re my person, too._

xxx

Jisung calls him to take a walk late one Saturday night. It had snowed part of the day so the park they’d decided to meet at is covered in a layer of glittering white. It’s beautiful, Minho thinks, but not as beautiful as the boy dressed in a grey peacoat and a red beanie, who is waving at him from a few yards down the walkway.

Jisung greets him with a call of his name and Minho finds himself grinning, finding himself wrapped up already in the joy Jisung somehow surrounds himself with, even when he’s caught in a horrible spot.

But that joy...withers.

“I have to go back to Incheon tomorrow evening,” Jisung says, and his gaze is fixed on their shoes. “I just got word that my ex got into some trouble and now they’re reevaluating my case against him at the school. I need to be in Seoul by Monday morning to go over stuff with the police and admin.”

Minho feels something in his chest that can only be one thing; it’s only painful enough to be one thing. His heart is breaking. 

_His heart is breaking?_

“I—that’s amazing, I’m so happy for you.”

Jisung nods, now moving to fidget with one of his earrings. “I’m happy too.” Yet he sounds just about as happy as Minho feels. 

_Why? He’ll finally be back to what he loves._

_Unless what he loves has changed—_

“I,” Minho scratches the back of his neck, searching for the right words but settling for the easy ones. “I’m going to miss you.”

Jisung glances up at him, lips quirked in a haughty smirk. “So you do care about me and my whereabouts,” he teases, quoting his words from weeks ago. 

Minho huffs, half-smiling. “Maybe.”

They wind through the park, side by side, soaking up each other’s company. Minho laughs until he cries when Jisung retells stories from his childhood, talking animatedly with his hands and Jisung does the same when Minho describes the antics of his students. 

And time always passes too quickly when they’re together.

“Fuck,” Jisung says when he checks the time on his phone, “it’s almost midnight, Changbin-hyung’s having a fit.”

Minho speaks before he thinks. “My apartment’s closer than his, tell him you’re staying overnight. If you want to.”

Jisung nods, rapidly typing a reply to Changbin. “You sure that it’s okay?”

Minho nods as Jisung pockets his phone. “Of course.”

Jisung smiles and Minho can’t help but grin back; they’re caught up in each other and Minho doesn’t really want to slip away from him. “I’m really going to miss you, Lee Minho,” Jisung says, “even your stupid smile.”

Minho snorts, his grin not dropping. “Let’s go.”

Minho isn’t sure who reaches out first, maybe it’s both of them, but as they walk back towards the city his and Jisung’s hands meet, their fingers tangling together. Jisung’s hand is softer than his; his own is calloused from dance, but it fits perfectly in Minho’s. 

“Thank god it’s warm in here,” Jisung groans when the apartment door shuts behind them. Minho laughs in agreement, pulling off his coat and hat, both of them discarding their shoes.

Jisung takes off his hat and then struggles with undoing his scarf, pouting sadly up at Minho. “I’m being strangled. Help me, hyung.”

Minho chuckles, shuffling forward so he’s standing right in front of Jisung. He grasps his scarf and works out the knot, the whole while feeling Jisung’s stare. 

“Hold this,” he says when he unravels the scarf, and hands it to Jisung, who takes it though confused. With a flash of courage Minho unbuttons Jisung’s jacket and reaches around him to slide it down off of his shoulders. 

When the jacket comes free he sets it on a hook next to his own, almost scared to look back at Jisung. Jisung’s eyes are wide when Minho does turn to him, and his face is flushed. Minho knows this time that it isn’t just from the cold, not when there’s a new tension between them. 

“You’re staring,” Jisung whispers, lips bitten red. 

“You’re beautiful,” Minho tells him, his voice just as quiet as Jisung’s. 

Jisung stares at him for a long minute, as if he’s replaying Minho’s words in his head. “And?”

Minho knows that this is the last chance to pull away from Jisung, but he finds that the thought of leaving Jisung is horrifying, rather than comforting. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jisung’s breath falters, his cheeks stained a darker red than before. “Then—then do it.”

Minho doesn’t hesitate as he reaches for Jisung and pulls him into his arms. He cups the younger’s face, staring down at him, with arm wrapped around his waist to keep him close. Jisung’s eyes are sparkling, all soft browns and shimmering lights. 

Stars. 

Leaning down, Minho presses their lips together. 

And it feels as though Minho has finally found where he belongs. Minho feels like he can fly but at the same time he feels so safe that nothing else in the world matters aside from them. It’s a horribly happy feeling and Minho is drowning in Jisung’s touch.

“Minho,” Jisung whispers when they pull apart, gasping for air. 

Minho pushes Jisung’s fringe aside, pressing their foreheads together as his hand finds purchase in the back of Jisung’s sweater. “I’m so sorry.” He brushes his knuckles against Jisung’s cheek, fingers threading into his hair. “You don’t deserve this—you, you deserve so much.”

“I’m a fool.” Jisung closes his eyes as he leans up to kiss Minho again. “I’m such a fool.”

Minho lets Jisung lick into his mouth as his hands slide underneath Jisung’s sweater, Minho’s fingers cold against his burning skin. He drops back, searching for Jisung’s eyes, and only pulls the fabric over his head and tossing it to the ground when Jisung nods his approval. 

“Are you sure?” Jisung asks, his eyes filled with worry but also heat when his fingers are crawling under the hem of Minho’s shirt. 

Minho draws Jisung into a kiss, breaking it off only to kiss him once, twice, more. “Are you?”

“I’m not,” Jisung whispers, and his voice is shaking. “But I know what I want.”

Minho pulls him through the apartment and down the hallway, stumbling through his bedroom doorway with a giggling Jisung in his arms and just barely manages to kick the door closed, barring the cats from any untimely entrances. As they move towards the bed he manages to raise his arms so Jisung can slip off his shirt before his fingers are back to exploring Jisung’s skin, the kiss turning sloppy, restless. 

Jisung’s eyes are so soft and so warm when Minho presses him into the mattress, his fingers curling in Minho’s hair while his chest rises and falls quickly. Minho turns greedy and leans down to steal a kiss, and then another, and then lowers his lips to kiss along his neck while Jisung’s hands trail down to grip his shoulders. “Min,” he breathes, tugging him back up. 

“I’ve got you,” Minho whispers, kissing his cheeks and forehead and then nose, his fingers finally finding Jisung’s belt. 

Jisung is beautiful through the whole night, his eyes shimmering with glitter and diamonds and something that makes it impossible for Minho to leave his orbit. Minho soaks up his giggles and shy smiles and looks of exasperation at the times when he doesn’t get his way; he can’t get enough of Jisung. 

Minho swears he won’t forget a thing—not the whine that turns Jisung red with embarrassment as he tugs at Minho’s hair, or the way his back arches when he reaches the peak of his pleasure, his breath stuttering as he clings to Minho. Or how his eyelids droop when Minho slides off of him, his fingers still curving around Minho’s biceps to keep him close. He’s so pretty, so perfect, and Minho feels like he’s been torn apart by a comet of molten affection. 

After he cleans them both up Minho crawls under the covers next to Jisung who is close to being fully passed out, and closes his eyes to will sleep to come quickly to mask his panic. What he has done is finally registering, but at the same time the guilt hits, comfort floods him from having Jisung’s soft weight in his arms. Jisung cuddles close, pressing a kiss to the junction of Minho’s neck and shoulder that is too sweet, too caring. 

As Minho lets his breathing even out, surrounded by a warmth that smells of lavender and feels like the hug of winter scarf, any resolve he has left to hold himself upright when the morning comes crumbles when Jisung lays his head on his chest, splaying a hand out over his heart.

xxx

Minho wakes up slowly, his limbs pulled heavy to the mattress with exhaustion. He rubs at his eyes and as the room comes into focus, the previous night hits him like a blow to the stomach.

_Jisung. He slept with Jisung._

“Fuck,” he whispers, instantly wide awake. It’s clear in less than an instant that Jisung isn’t beside him, and the bed is cold aside from the spot where he had been asleep. Minho pulls himself up, looking around the room for any trace of where the boy could have gone. He spots nothing, aside from the clothes that he’d discarded the previous night; they have all been folded and set on the bureau. 

Minho slides off the bed, grabbing sweatpants and a hoodie from a stack of clean laundry sitting at the base of his closet, ready to be put away. Tugging the clothes on he walks over to the neat pile on the bureau, and finds a slip of paper on top. He picks it up all the while gnawing on his lip. 

_Minho,  
I didn’t have anything to write on so I stole one of your sticky notes, sorry :(  
I’m headed to the station now, going back to Incheon. I’m taking an earlier train, I think I should give you and us space. I need to. I don’t regret last night, strangely enough, though I do wish it had been under better circumstances. I was and am so selfish, please forgive me. Last night was a lapse of judgement on both our parts; I know you love Chan so the best thing for me is to let go.  
I guess it’s easier for me to say (write) now because you’re asleep and I feel a little braver so here goes. I wish you loved me. Stupid, right? You’re such a fucking idiot, maybe I am too, because I’m always hoping I can make you laugh and see you smile.  
Maybe one day we’ll see each other again and maybe I won’t feel like my heart is crumbling when I look at you. But I can’t, not right now.  
I’m sorry.  
J_

Minho’s throat closes and he trips over to his bed, the note clutched tight in his hand. Does this mean—does Jisung truly care for him?

 _As deeply as you do for him?_ A tiny voice adds inside his head, completely irrationally. 

Minho gulps for air as he grabs his phone off the bedside table. 

[Minnie]  
bin  
did Jisung le ave?

[Binnie]  
yeah, about an hour ago. I was surprised you didn’t come to see him off

[Minnie]  
hes didnt tell me

[Binnie]  
fuck  
are you okay?

Minho’s hands are quivering badly as he stumbles through the door and out of his apartment. He hurries down the sidewalk, the cold wind washing over his face with a head full of static. 

When Changbin’s apartment door comes into view Minho breathes a sigh of relief, but as he raises a hand to knock, his frozen fingers curling into a fist, he’s hit with memories. Jisung at the door, Jisung scoffing or grinning or both as he pulls Minho into the apartment with his words and his galaxy eyes. 

Minho chokes on a sob. 

Somehow he does knock, the noise nonexistent to his deafened ears. 

Changbin opens up a few seconds later, his eyes full of concern but with not a hint of surprise. He ushers Minho in, leading him to the couch where Minho had sat with Jisung so many times. Minho’s teeth are chattering when Changbin sits down beside him, his body is cramping up from the cold. 

“You didn’t text back,” Changbin says, draping the ratty old throw blanket around his frame, “I was worried.”

Minho pats his hoodie pocket, not feeling his phone. “Forgot it.”

“Talk to me?” Changbin asks, and he’s speaking softly like he’s approaching an animal that is cowering in fear. “You can tell me anything, hyung.”

Minho nods, he wants to tell his friend what he feels but he’s not sure what to say. He stares at his hands, surprise flooding through him as he uncurls his left to see that Jisung’s note is still clutched between his fingers. 

“I’m an idiot,” he whispers, and the grip his heart has on his throat tightens with each second. 

Changbin reaches out, his eyes searching Minho’s, silently asking for permission. Minho nods, letting him take the paper, but it feels wrong to let it go. Changbin’s lips press into a thin line as he reads, and after a few moments he comes away with a sigh. When he finishes it he sets it on the coffee table and then stretches out his arms for Minho to fall into. 

“What am I going to do,” Minho cries, the tears that have been barred back for too long now finally sliding down his cheeks as he clings to Changbin’s shirt. “Bin, what do I do?”

Changbin is silent for a moment, and he presses into the taught muscles of Minho’s back. “Do you love him?”

The air is caught in Minho’s lungs and he feels like his vision is about to give to darkness. “I—Bin—”

“Do you love Chan-hyung?”

Minho bites his bottom lip hard, his entire body shaking. He looks at Changbin with pleading eyes, hoping that he understands what he’s still afraid to say. 

Changbin nods, receiving Minho’s unspoken words, and squeezes his hands. “Does Jisung make you happy? Do you always want to be around him? How much would you give to keep him safe?”

“I—” Minho feels another tidal wave of panic setting in, his muscles tightening up. He struggles to breathe, each intake of air leaving him gasping, confusion and terror and so many other emotions overcoming him. 

Changbin pulls away, grabbing a water bottle off the coffee table and pressing it against Minho’s hand. “Focus on the cold, hyung. Can you do that?”

So slowly Minho’s fingers relax, and he’s still shaking but his breathing is coming easier. Staring at Changbin Minho crumples down sobbing once more, letting Changbin hold him close again, the boy whispering words of comfort in his ear.

xxx

Weeks pass without a word from Jisung. Minho has felt nothing but a dull thud of pain in his chest every moment, and he hasn’t been able to take a second of true rest without thinking about him.

He’d broken everything off with Chan, unable to look the other boy in the eye when he’d done it. It marked the end of much more than just a sexual relationship—it marked the end of Minho’s infatuation. 

It marked the beginning of his acknowledged feelings for Han Jisung. 

It’s after another week packed full of lonely days without receiving a text back from Jisung that Minho finally snaps, grabbing a duffle bag and stuffing a couple changes of clothes, his laptop, and a few other necessities, all the while on a speaker call with Changbin. 

Changbin had relayed that everything went well with Jisung’s case and that he’s back in school. Other than that, both Changbin and Minho are in the dark. 

When Minho tells Changbin he’s leaving for Seoul, Changbin does nothing more than laugh good-naturedly, and wish him true luck.

The campus is bigger than Minho had expected—he wanders around like a lost dog, searching for the music building, the only place he knows he can start at. After asking help from a groundskeeper he’s pointed in the right direction, but his heart drops to his toes when he’s standing in front of the large, formidable building with music notes painted by the doorway. 

Maybe it’s just formidable because he’s terrified of going past those doors.

“Can I help you?” 

Minho nearly jumps out of his skin and turns, his eyes landing on a girl that’s smiling at him, with purple hair falling past her shoulders in waves. “Sorry if I scared you. You just look like the building is going to eat you, and I can assure you that it’s not.”

Minho smiles back, feeling a bit shy at the mention of his fear. “I was looking for a friend. I know he’s in a music program here, but other than here I have no clue of where he might be.”

The girl tilts her head, “What’s his name? Maybe I know him.” 

“Jisung, Han Jisung?” It comes out as more of a question, but the girl doesn’t tease him for his insecurity. 

“Oh, Jisung? Yeah, I know him, and I know where he is.” The girl waves at Minho to follow her and he does, trailing after her fast pace. “Oh, by the way, I’m Yerim,” she calls over her shoulder. 

“I’m Minho.” 

“I’m actually a dance major, but Jisung-ssi produced a song for one of my classes earlier this year. He was involved in that scandal and left, but he’s back and he’s made up for lost time,” Yerim rambles as she leads Minho down an artificially lit hallway with doors on either side every few yards. “Anyways, the studio he’s usually lurking around in is this one here.” 

After thanking Yerim Minho peers through the partially opened door, noting the three students that are seated at desks. Two of them have headphones on, bobbing their heads to whatever music is playing through the sets, but the third, the one with the desk against the wall adjacent to the sound booth, doesn’t. He has one foot propped up on the edge of his seat so he can rest his chin on his knee as he studies whatever is on his laptop screen. 

_That student—_

The student pulls himself up out of the chair and Minho nearly gasps when he sees his face. It’s Jisung, his Jisung, the one who has turned him inside out. Jisung is standing right there with rich brown hair and red headphones around his neck, looking more alive than Minho has ever seen him. Jisung is so obviously _happy._

Jisung raises his arms above his head in a stretch, yawning, and Minho can’t help but smile. It’s so peaceful and Minho almost wants to creep away and leave Jisung to his work, but he’s given no choice to do so when his duffle bumps against the door, pushing it open. He scrambles to grab the handle so that it doesn’t hit the wall but he’s caused enough of a commotion to warrant attention.

And Jisung’s eyes are just as large as he remembers, even at a distance. He’s frozen in shock, pink lips parted and hands hanging limply at his sides. Jisung blinks at Minho in disbelief and Minho tries to think of what to say, tries to figure out how to express himself, but Jisung beats him to it and his voice is the most beautiful thing Minho has heard in weeks. 

“Do you perhaps care about me and my whereabouts, Lee Minho?”

Minho grins, warmth and giddiness flowing through him. It’s familiarity and love and Minho feels _so much._ “You wish.”

Jisung beams and runs towards him, his face becoming clearer and clearer with every step. Minho drops his duffle and closes the last feet between them, gasping in anxiety and relief and bliss when Jisung is finally in his embrace, his body pressed against Minho’s and his arms looped around his neck. Minho pulls him closer by his waist, hugging him tight with no intention of letting go. 

“You asshole,” Jisung whispers and Minho can hear the quiver of emotion in his voice, “what the hell took you so long?”

Minho laughs, pulling away far enough so he can look right into Jisung’s bright eyes. “If I was taking so long, why did you wait?”

Jisung scoffs, but his eyes are growing glassier with each passing moment. “Because I’m in love with you, you bastard.”

Minho’s pulse is fluttering, emotions wild as he presses his forehead to Jisung’s. “You love me? Even my stupid smile?”

“Even your stupid smile,” Jisung says, cupping Minho’s jaw and leaning up to kiss him. 

And it’s there where Minho falls in love again, holding Jisung at his waist, his chunky sweater bunching under his fingertips. Jisung’s hands find purchase on Minho’s shoulders and Minho can’t help but smile into the kiss and then Jisung is laughing, distorting it further. As their foreheads press together Minho realizes that this is what he’s always hoped to have; this boy who he knows he won’t stop falling for. 

Han Jisung, the boy with endlessly starry eyes.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

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